Myself in Mirrors
by kaill
Summary: "You want to know what I see? I see a heartless, crude, pathetic boy with nothing but hate coursing through his veins." She brought her hand up to slap him, her tone hissing, but he grabbed her wrist, staring at her with his darkened eyes as he tightened his hold. Her pure anger masked her expression to wince. She looked back at him, unable to truly understand him like always. DC


"You want to know what I see? I see a heartless, crude, pathetic boy with nothing but hate coursing through his veins." She brought her hand up to slap him but he grabbed her wrist, staring at her with his darkened eyes as he tightened his hold. Her pure anger masked her expression to wince. She looked back at him, unable to truly understand him like always. AU

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Prologue:

_Hate is weaker than love, but the passion burns the same._

Darkness isn't just something that you see when you turn off a light or close your eyes. It's not just an occurrence that engulfs your surroundings when the sun goes down. In literature, the night is sometimes a bone-chilling, fog-filled mystery, almost like death.

There's a darkness marked in some of us; the death of one's soul perhaps. It can drive away anything that might try and take that feeling of nothingness to bring you back to life. A control that people seem to have no control over; you can read it in a person's eyes, unless you're too late and they've faded so far away that there's no emotion; just a blank stare.

As she looked into the eyes of the one boy, who drove her to a frazzled state of existence, she thought that she saw a glimpse of something else, the glimpse of a possible escape, a pleading cry for help. Her teeth scraped over her bottom lip, trying to follow the glimmer of hope that she secretly wanted from him. She wondered if he could hear the pounding in her chest or the simplicity of her breathing as she stood so close to him.

She was sworn to hatred whenever she was in his presence. The blond knew every trick to get under her skin and he managed to bury himself under there like a tick. It was game to him. She knew that being able to piss her off so easily was the highlight of his day. No amount of hate seemed to get him to back off. If anything, it challenged him more, which made her push and fight more. A cycle of never ending bites and scars of words flourished between them like a third degree burn from a blazing fire. Tensioned stares magnetized their polar-opposite pupils; hers of loyalty and innocence and his of anguish and despair.

People always say that hate is weaker than love and that good triumphs evil. Did those people ever figure out that the passion burns the same or that evil can bring out this feeling of exhilaration that causes good a craving to explore?

Questions would always swirl in her mind as soon as he wasn't around her anymore. There was so much annoyance that he brought her that she wondered if there was ever an ounce of joyfulness in his blood. Something just had to trigger this need for him to act like dictating monster. Was it possible for the pure soul of a baby to be created with a shadowed heart? She would try and shake off those thoughts hard, causing her brain to rattle and her head to hurt in a hazy trance. It couldn't take a snap of second to bring her out of her consumption by him.

_Mudblood. _His voice was always trickling with venom whenever he would speak to her, lacing his tone with an extra poisonous spat. This insult had turned into a name that he would use in a normal conversation. The word came off so nonchalantly when he would talk about her out of context but the cruelty was still behind it. If anyone's blood was tainted or dirty, it was his.

There was one thing that Hermione Granger ever tried with when it came to Draco Malfoy: kindness. Maybe if she did, it would take him by surprise and throw him off or it would do the obvious and cause him to take easier jabs at her. With each agonizing poke from Draco, Hermione wondered when she was going to break.

Under the surface, now, her curious nature wanted to use a new approach to find that one thing that would make Draco actually appear in the disguise that he wandered earth with: humanity. Every living thing had a beating heart. Strong healthy ones lived longer than strained stressed ones. How was he able to function with his tainted one?

Standing in front of him, a part of her wanted to reach out and place her hand on his chest to feel if his heart was truly beating. Could his pulse beat in time and ever match hers? Right now, could it possibly be thumping against the cavity of his chest as rapidly as her own?

The only way to find that out was if she took the chance to go for it. As she lifted her hand, she watched his snarled gaze turn to something she couldn't believe that his eyes could possess: fear.

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AN: Thank you to any readers who checked out this story. This is my first shot at writing a Harry Potter story. I have always loved this tension/hate that Hermione and Draco had so I wanted to try and explore it. I hope the prologue isn't too confusing to follow. The next chapter will go backwards in time and as the story progresses this moment will be revealed again.

As of now this story is rated T. There is the possibility that it will change to M. If that does occur, I would let everyone know at the beginning of that chapter.

Your feedback is always appreciated! -kaill


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